The Outback

What an amazing 5 days. I survived the bush swags! More pictures in a few weeks. Oh, and the hang gliding video has sound now.

Hang Gliding

If you enjoy watching people do stupid things (and who doesn't), here's a video of my attempt at hang gliding in Queenstown, New Zealand. Before Chris and I decided to try this, I would have considered myself a coordinated, calm human being that can follow simple directions. This does not appear to be the case. I can't decide if I'm elated or embarrassed that this was all caught on tape, so until then, here are a few things to ponder:

1. I immediately forgot what to do with my feet. Thanks for taking charge, Mr. Instructor Man.

2. Grabbing the steering bar is an apparent no-no, so of course, it's the first thing I go for.

3. We landed in a field full of sheep poop. Lots and lots of sheep poop.

Kiwis in the Outback

Wow. We only have a month left before our big adventure ends. I can't believe it. In this time my brother-in-law had gotten married, two of my best friends have had babies and my brother is well on his way to graduating college, yet it's gone by so quickly and Chris and I can't believe our time here is coming to an end.

We are both quite sad about leaving - I have grown to love Sydney, and Australia in general. I don't even notice all of the peculiarities and differences any more. Chris and I each have our daily routines, and we have established a nice rhythm of living. We know that we will always look back fondly upon our time here. Anyway, the point of this post is to let you know about our upcoming travel plans before we come home - I don't know if I'll have time to update this one more time so here's a pre-trip rundown...

We leave for New Zealand today for two weeks and will be living in a campervan(!) while we tour around the South Island. New Zealand in winter is supposed to be breathtaking, so we are going to do as much as possible while we're down there. For those who are interested, you can look at a map and see exactly where we're going - NZ isn't very big, and according to our friend Ryan, has "about three roads" so you should be able to plot our route quite easily. Our rough itinerary is Christchurch > Akaroa > Arthur's Pass to Punakaiki and Okarito > down the West Coast > Helihike Franz Josef or Fox Glacier > Haast Pass down to Wanaka > Te Anau > Milford or Doubtful Sound > Queenstown. We're going to ski the Remarkables for 4 days before coming back to Sydney. Afterwards, we are flying to Alice Springs for a 5-day outback safari. I am SO excited about this. We are going to sleep in authentic bush swags under the stars (I hope the creepy crawlies don't want to get intimate), see Uluru at sunset, hike Kings Canyon, take guided Aboriginal bush walks, and generally experience the vast, amazing outback desert. I just might try a witchety grub if I'm feeling brave. We then fly to Fiji for 7 days, where we're staying on an itsy-bitsy,
teensy weensie island called Navini. It only takes 20 minutes to walk around the entire thing! We'll be very isolated - no resort-y activities, just a couple of palm trees, some great snorkeling, and the ocean. Sounds like heaven.

Needless to say, we are cramming as much as we can into the end of our adventure. Sandflies, bush tucker, campervans, bring it on. Actually, I hope we can handle the campervan. I'm a little nervous. It's big. We have a shower and toilet in the thing. It could get interesting. All of our Chicago friends - we will see you soon for some end-of-summer fun! Hope you all have enjoyed the (sporadically updated) adventure as much as we have.

Love, Anne and Chris

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

Hi. Chris here. In case you faithful readers didn't know, it's been Anne writing all this time. Well, now that my three-month sabbatical has started I figured I'd sit down and read this blog, maybe even write my own entry because I've got a couple of things to report. To start with, I got a speeding ticket in the mail. My first ticket ever. In Tasmania. You know how some people surmise about "a good way to go" and whatnot? Well, if I were to say, I want my first speeding ticket to happen like here's how it would go. I know Anne already wrote about this, but I'll recount. We're in Tasmania on our way to Freycinet in our rented Toyota Camry. Anne's in front, Gerhard in back. We're driving along, all is well. All of the sudden, I realize ... CRAP! I forgot my license. No biggie, says Gerhard, we won't get pulled over. He also offers to drive, but the problem is, he's not on the rental agreement and Anne can't drive because she's never driven on the left side of the road before (Anne here - this will change once we're in New Zealand. I will conquer my fears!) Anyway, I better carry on. At about this time, we'd been following a big, slow truck for awhile and a rock kicked up and smacked the windshield right as another big truck passed in the oncoming lane. I had no idea who kicked the rock up but I knew I wanted to get away from all trucks. So what did I do? What any responsible person would do. I kept my distance from the truck in front of us, waited for the next "overtaking zone" to arrive and went into the passing lane. Just as I was passing the truck, Gerhard says "slow down, that was a police we just passed." So within a 10-minute span, I realized I forgot my license, a rock chipped the windshield of the rental car, and I passed a cop going 134 KPH in a 100 KPH zone.

As for the other thing to report, I pooped next to Stevie Wonder in O'Hare Airport on our way home to Kansas City for Jeff's wedding. Long story short, I was in that one handicap stall with a broken door latch in terminal 1 near gate B11, and his entourage knocked hard and inadvertently busted in on me. I know I know, what was I doing in the handicapped stall, especially after seeing that one episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where Larry David used the handicapped stall and when he came out, a guy in a wheelchair was waiting and yelled at him? Well, stall 1's door was shut, someone had majorly miscalculated in stall 2 (mookie stinks left there curling over the lip), stall 3's door was shut, so who wouldn't choose the spacious one with the sink! Anyway, the latch failed when they knocked. I was mortified ... and star struck. So Stevie had to use the stall next to me, while I got to hear his entourage speculate and laugh about how on earth the scenario in stall 2 could've played out. Take that, Larry David.

Tasmania!

Okay, so we made it to Tasmania and YES the devil really does exist! This is a long post, but there's so much to write about! A few weeks ago we went to the Sydney Writer's Festival (rather serendipitously) to see Chris's friend Thomas Kohnstamm, who was in Sydney promoting his book Do Travel Writers Go To Hell?. He introduced us to another author, Grace, and her lovely husband Gerhard. The five of us had a great evening together, and since Grace and Gerhard are fabulous people, they invited us to spend the weekend with them in Tasmania. We arrive in "Tassie" on Thursday afternoon and are immediately treated to warm risotto for lunch, followed by an inpromptu honey tasting. We discuss the intricacies and subtle flavors of the individual honeys as each spoonful is offered. It's like sipping fine wine. I never knew you could be a honey connoisseur! Grace's book, The Honey Spinner, follows her journey around the world in search of the truth behind the global honey market (Naturally, she eats a lot of honey). After lunch we get a top-notch tour around Hobart, Australia's second-oldest city. It's a sleepy and enchanting little town. It's full of Georgian architecture, winding streetscapes, quiet parks, and has a beautiful waterfront similar to Sydney. The pace is slooooow. People know one another and Gerhard waves 'hello' to some familiar faces. We walk through Battery Point down into Salamaca Place, where he shows us some of his commissioned art installations. We end up at T42 where we meet Grace for a drink. For dinner that evening, Gerhard prepares hand-rolled sushi and a sesame-encrusted salmon salad. Chris and I are both seriously impressed.
The next morning we awaken to some quick-paced scampering, which is Gerhard's way of starting the day. It makes sense, since it feels like it's freezing. A small glass of ginger/celery/apple juice is given to us and I announce that I'll be getting a proper juicer as soon as we get back home. Grace suggests we enjoy our coffee up on their deck. We sit on blankets admiring Mt. Wellington above us and quiet town below. Today we're driving to Freycinet National Park, one of the 'must see' destinations in Tasmania. After about 45-minutes of lazing around, Gerhard announces that we all must get cracking if we are to make the 3-hour drive up the coast, and still make it back home before dark. He's excited to "have a surf" and with one hard shove of his board into our rental car, we're off. It's quite a long drive, but beautiful. Windy roads, lined with sheep and very little traffic. The sheep don't even look real, they are so still! I joke that they are stage sheep, placed there for our benefit. When we stop at Banjo's and Chris realizes that he has left behind his wallet, as well as his license. Not the best situation, since we're foreigners, driving a rental car on the wrong side of the road through the windy hills of Tasmania, but no matter. We purchase our sandwiches to enjoy for lunch and get back on the road. About 15 minutes later a logger truck passes us and kicks up a rock, which cracks our windshield. Awesome. We also zoom past a cop car while going at least 20 miles over the speed limit while trying to pass a slower vehicle (damn foreigners). After about 5 minutes of frantic rear view mirror glancing, we all decide that the cop is not following us and at worst, we'll get a Tasmanian ticket in the mail. What a souveneir! There are many picturesque spots along the A3, and the windswept vegetation reminds me a bit of Patagonia, but still there is something very unique about the landscape. At around 2:00 we arrive at Friendly Beaches, and once Gerhard sees the swells, he is like a kid in a candy store, and leaps out of the car, grabbing his gear and bounds down to the water. Keep in mind it is winter down here. That water is COLD, but Gerhard is true salt of the earth. He shoves his wallet and cell phone at us and points the way to Freycinet, telling us he'll be waiting here when we return. As we drive off we agree that if anything happens to Gerhard, we're definitely prime suspects. Lone surfer goes missing. American couple pulled over who just happens to have his cell phone and wallet but not their own. Very suspicious. Another 20-minute drive and we are at Freycinet. It's now 2:45 and we realize that we have barely enough time to make it to Wineglass Bay and back before it starts getting dark, plus we have Gerhard to worry about. What to do - pay the $24 entry fee and slog it up in record time, or just enjoy a scenic drive around the park? We decide to do it, and park the car among several tame wallabies before tramping up. It's not a long hike, and once up top I decide the I MUST hike down to the beach, which is beautiful.
It's not too late and we have plenty of time. We start our beach descent but after 20 minutes, I look down to realize that the beach is still just as far away as when we first started. Realizing we still have an uphill climb back, we decide that there's no way we'll make it back to Gerhard in time, so we abandon the beach idea and turn around. I'm pretty sure we set a record for the least amount of time spent in Freycinet National Park, but what we did experience was definitely worth the trip! When we reach Gerhard, he's been in the water almost 3.5 hours and is still going strong, but he's drifted quite a bit further south and is now alarmingly close to some large rocks. Thankfully, he catches one last wave and calls it a day. We all pile back into our car which is now filled with sand and crumbs from Gerhard's meat pie earlier. I reprimand him for his mess, but it's all in fun and we laugh as we get back on the road. It's almost dark now and things are getting a bit dodgy. Logger trucks pass us at close range and the windy cliff roads are narrow, to say the least. About half-way home, we are met with a rocky protrusion on our left and a wayward logger truck on our right. Chris senses the predicament and instinctively decides that the rock is the lesser of the two evils. It's not fun, and we all expect to pop a tire, but thankfully, it all passes in a blur and no harm is done. Mom, if you're reading this, don't worry, we all had our seat belts on and Chris is a great driver. :) After the rock/truck incident, Chris just wants to get us the hell home, so none of us say much the rest of the journey. Once back in town, we stop of at Woolworth's for some lamb shanks, and finally arrive home and are greeted by Grace, beautiful music, and a warm, toasty fire. We all enjoy a glass of wine as Gerhard prepares dinner. Afterwards, we play a few rounds of Boggle, which I've decided feels like Scrabble for slightly denser, less patient people. I'll be buying it soon. On Saturday we awake to the smells of breakfast and I take a "rain shower" and enjoy another crazy juice concoction. Today, we are driving to Port Arthur, about an hour south-east of Hobart. It's a former convict settlement on the Tasman Peninsula and is one of Australia's most significant heritage areas and officially Tasmania's top tourist attraction. We all pile into our car, and turn on John Cleese, our GPS navigator, which Grace and Gerhard get a huge kick out of. He loves to say things like "Bear right, beaver left." Very funny. When we arrive, we join a group tour around the remnants of the settlement. It's a fascinating place with a sad, dark history. It's also very beautiful, and I joke that I would have enjoyed being incarcerated here. After a couple of hours we are all frozen and it's getting dark, so we decide to call it a day. We stop off to do some star gazing and I spot the Southern Cross right away. The stars are amazing since there is no light pollution. A little further down the road, we pull off again so that I can take my picture next to a Tasmanian Devil road crossing sign. Proof that they really do exist! Once back in Hobart, we head straight for Salamanca, where we enjoy dinner at one of Grace and Gerhard's favorite restaurants, Smelt. We decide to stop off at Woolies again for some ice cream, but along the way, Chris gets pulled over by police for a random breathalizer. Apparently, there is a pretty large police presence in this part of Hobart, and this is par for the course. At least he has his license (although the don't even ask for it)! Once back at home we enjoy our ice cream, and decide that Sunday we will go to Bruny Island, a beautiful part of Tasmania that most tourists don't make it down to see. Gerhard announces that we must rise before dawn in order to catch the early ferry across. He needs time to catch some abalone to cook for lunch and Grace wants to take us on a hike up to Fluted Cape. The next morning we groan as we open our eyes. It is still dark and it's absolutely freezing! Gerhard raps on our door and says it's almost time to leave. Ugh, can't we just sleep in and enjoy the deck again? Why do we have to go to Bruny Island anyway? We all pile into their Mercedes 240D, affectionately named "Fritz" and then grab some coffee and pastries before heading down to Kettering to catch the ferry across to Bruny. The ferry launches just as the sun starts to rise, and we all climb to the top deck to see the beautiful view. The coffee has kicked in and I convince myself that I must rise this early every morning. I will turn over a new leaf (Chris knows me well enought to roll his eyes at this statement). Inhaling deeply, I smile as I think about all those other lazy tourists who are missing amazing experience. Once on the island, we drive to The Neck, a long, narrow isthmus and climb the wooden steps up to see the views of the surrounding water. Afterward, we head to Adventure Bay Beach so that Gerhard can catch his abalone. You have to understand. The water is like 8 degrees, but he can't WAIT to get in and spear these things for us to have for lunch. Abalones are huge mussels, and are a real delicacy in certain parts of the world, especially in Asia. They're difficult to catch and Gerhard has to wrestle with them for awhile before


surfacing and handing five over to me to 'keep an eye on'. The little buggers will suck onto anything, and I spend the next 10 minutes prodding them with my shoe. Ick. Afterwards, we all hike up to Fluted Cape. It's turning out to be a beautiful day. Once up top we take some pictures and then head back down along the coastline. Our final stop is the Bruny Island Cheese Company, where we get a tasting of several lovely cheeses. It's run by a man named Nick, who after traveling the world working for specialty cheese makers, decided to settle here and make some for himself. We purchase two wedges and have an impromptu picnic while waiting for the afternoon ferry to take us back across. It's been a very full day, but we end up having enough time once back home to shower up and enjoy the abalone, which Gerhard prepares with garlic and fish sauce. It's so yum! We reluctantly say goodbye to our dear friends and are sad to have to be leaving Tasmania. A truly wonderful weekend!

Zoo zombies

It's been awhile since I've posted anything, but we've been whipping around the States and just got back last week after a whirlwind trip that included stops to Chicago, Iowa, Arkensas and finally Kansas City, for Jeff and Sarah's beautiful wedding. Phew! Naturally, we arrive completely jet-lagged and decide it makes perfect sense to go to the zoo. Who wouldn't? Let's see.
I think we rode a gondola, saw some kangaroos and watched a bird show. Oh, and maybe there was a koala. Yeah, there was definitely a koala. And a platypus, I think. Didn't I write a report on that in 4th grade? Did it have a duckbill? I can't remember. By 8:30 that evening we agreed that we gave mr. jet lag a serious ass whooping. We should go back again when we're actually awake. I think there was a seal show? Maybe there's a picture...

Burpees and bear crawls

Nothing very exciting to report, so I thought I'd fill you in on our new morning fitness routine. We've been doing this three times a week since the end of February. I swear, every time the alarm goes off, there is about 45 seconds of wingeing (a great Aussie term), occasionally a bit of swearing, creative excuses for not getting out of bed, etc. but eventually we unfurl, and sleepwalk up to Observatory Hill for our 30-minute torture session with Daniel, our "conditioning coach". It's a love/hate relationship.

This all came about because over the past few months, we've noticed a peculiar outdoor group fitness phenomenon - people charging at each other with boxing gloves, throwing around medicine balls, etc. It's everywhere. We were curious and agreed it might be good to try something other than running - I believe this is called "cross training".

Yeah. Cross training. This term scares me. Chris pointed out a group of decidedly fit people running, jumping and rolling around on the grass on top of Observatory Hill, so we tentatively approach to see what is going on. Fast forward four days and we are chin down in the muddy grass, doing body blasts, spiderman crawls, sprinter shuffles, star jumps, hover-to-pushups, and another 10 things that I can't remember the names of because they were so painful I blocked them out. Oh, wait. There were bear crawls and burpees too. Who came up with the term burpee?

The stuff is hard. The next day neither of us can get out of bed. But it gets us going in the morning, and our group is small so we've gotten to know some interesting personalities. It's amazing the things you say to complete strangers when you're in pain.

Last Monday we arrive at 7:05 and about 15 minutes in, it starts raining. I don't mean a light, lovely mist to cool your face, this is a deluge. So the group starts wingeing (I so LOVE it!) and moping around. Tamsen isn't happy. Emily certainly isn't happy, but Daniel isn't about to give in. It is pouring and I'm drenched and muddy, but I have to admit, I did feel a little bit like Rambo doing push-ups in the mud. The last session of our 8-week "commitment" was Friday, but now I'm worried. I mean, we can't just STOP, right? What's gonna happen? I get up the next morning instantly sad and flabby?

Our next session begins on Monday.